


"Remembrance"

by Savageseraph



Category: Dragon Age 2
Genre: Dogs, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Magic, Regret, Strength
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5337524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageseraph/pseuds/Savageseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke never could lie to the Mabari, the dog was way too smart for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Remembrance"

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://classics-lover.livejournal.com/profile)[classics_lover](http://classics-lover.livejournal.com/)’s “you can’t lie to a dog” truth-and-lies prompt today at [](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/profile)[comment_fic](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/).

Title: "Remembrance"  
Characters: Female Hawke, Dog  
Fandom: Dragon Age 2  
Author: Barbara [](http://savageseraph.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://savageseraph.livejournal.com/)**savageseraph**  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: I don’t pretend to own the characters or the world. I just amuse themselves with them for fun, not profit.  
Summary: Hawke never could lie to the Mabari, the dog was way too smart for that.  
Notes: Written for [](http://classics-lover.livejournal.com/profile)[**classics_lover**](http://classics-lover.livejournal.com/) ’s “you can’t lie to a dog” truth-and-lies prompt today at [](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/profile)[**comment_fic**](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/).

 

Hawke wondered what it was like to be one of those people who marked more happy anniversaries than sad ones. Sitting in the dark, she was intensely grateful for those things she could celebrate. Meeting Varric for the first time and restoring the Amell family fortune. Beating Isabella at a hand of Wicked Grace. Seeing Aveline wed to Donnic. Knowing what that kind of love felt like by having Anders in her life.

“For Father.” A candle flared to light. “You gave me magic. Kept me from the Circle. You made me proud to be an apostate.”

A soft whine made Hawke start. The candle lit the shadowy shape of her Mabari. For a big dog, Ripley was remarkably quiet when she wanted to be.

“Come ‘ere, girl.” Hawke petted the floor next to her, and Ripley came over, sat next to her. “It’s okay. It’s good.”

Ripley shook her head and snorted at Hawke’s words. She never could lie to the Mabari, the dog was way too smart for that.

“For Wesley.” Another candle came to life. “I wish you could have escaped the Blight with us. Even though you were a Templar, Aveline loved you, and I would have called you friend for that.”

“For Bethany.” Another candle flared, and Hawke swallowed around the lump in her throat. “It happened so fast, sis. If I could have taken that ogre’s blow for you, I would have. I would have.”

“For Carver.” Another candle, another sorrow. “I shouldn’t have taken you into the Deep Roads. I wish we could have peace between us. I wish we could be a family.”

Ripley tilted her head to the side, made a questioning sound.

“No, he’s not dead. That doesn’t mean there isn’t a hole inside me where he used to be.”

“For Mother.” The candle flamed flared bright and hot. Years hadn’t dulled the despair she felt when she saw her mother’s head stitched on to a body cobbled together from other women and animated by blood magic. Templars were charged with ferreting out and ending blood mages, but none of them did it as passionately as Hawke did.

“I’m so sorry, Mother. I’m sorry I couldn’t find you before he hurt you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Hawke didn’t make any effort to wipe away the tears she couldn’t contain. The only way she could keep moving, keep control, was to let it slip in a place where it would do the least harm.

Ripley whined, butted at her shoulder, and Hawke curled an arm around the Mabari, burying her face in the bristly fur as she let grief take her. As she wept, each candle guttered, went out.

“It’ll be okay, Ripley.” The dog’s questioning whine told Hawke how effective assertion was. She took a deep breath, wiped away tears and snot. “It _will_ be okay.” Too much depended on it, on her. “It has to be.”


End file.
